Diplomacy
by shedoc
Summary: A little bit of Watson's past pops up.


Disclaimer – the characters don't belong to me (obviously)

**Diplomacy**

Sherlock Holmes swallowed a sigh and refrained from glaring at his unwanted guests. It was not that he wished to avoid offending them, or that he required any particular favour from them, but more because he knew that his dear friend would be terribly scandalised by his churlish behaviour and Watson had been sorely pressed of late.

Indeed, the bandages on his arm, barely visible beneath the cuff of his sleeve were constant reminders of all that the dear man had risked for Holmes only scant hours ago. It would have been ungrateful in the extreme to subject him to further trevails so close upon the dangers of last night. Though his guests would most likely be unable to detect, or simply would not care to see it, Watson's complexion was a good deal paler than his wont, and there were faint lines of pain scoring his face.

From the expression on his brothers face, Mycroft was well aware that his patience was rapidly reaching its already short limit, and his brother shifted his massive bulk in his chair. Holmes had chosen to stand behind Watson's chair, one hand resting lightly on the back, a clear signal to his dear friend that he was watching the man closely lest his health take a turn for the worse. They had barely risen from breakfast and the argument over having a second doctor see to Watson's injuries when Mycroft had descended, with the Premier and several notable politicians in tow. Watson had tried to leave the room, citing the need for privacy in the face of matters of state, but Holmes would not brook it and his friend had acquieced to avoid a scene, exactly as Holmes had known he would.

The problem that Mycroft had presented to him was extremely mundane, and Holmes made a mental note to speak to his brother in private about the matter at his next opportunity. A band of foreign nomadic travellers had arrived in the middle of London. They were considered royalty in their homeland, and had some information or documents that were vital to Her Majesties government. The precise nature of the matter was obscured as it was apparently too sensitive to speak of even to Holmes.

After much breast beating and ritual self-castigation, the politicans in their midst finally admitted that they had made a grevious error of protocol, decorum and judgement and offended the very people that had come to speak with them. The insult was apparently irredeemable, and had been compounded by a second parties attempts to smooth it over. The visitors had at least agreed to speak to a third intermediary, on the condition that it be a man of their choosing – someone they had dealt with in the past and therefore trusted.

When Holmes had made the mistake of admitting he knew nothing of the affair as covered by the press, the politicians had broken into excalmations of surprise and general disdain. Naturally, his Watson had spoken up quietly in Holmes' defence, his genteel tone cutting through the rhetoric as he explained that they had been engaged in a delicate matter for a peer of the realm – one which had taken a very gruesome turn that had required the most strenuous of efforts only hours ago.

"And you wish me to find this man the nomads trust?" Holmes decided to cut to the chase, seeing the way that Watson's shoulders were beginning to droop ever so slightly. His friend should be resting peacefully on the settee, at the very least. Infection was a very real possibility and his friend would need to be at the top of his fitness to avoid such a calamity – hence the need to get rid of their nuiscance guests as quickly as possible.

"No, no, Sherlock," Mycroft finally saw fit to speak up, "We know where the man in question is. We are here to seek his assistance."

"I do not know of any nomadic tribes," Holmes replied evenly, raising an eyebrow. Watson chuckled and straightened his shoulders once more.

"I do," the astonishing admission made the detective glance down at him in shock. From the almost military posture Holmes could tell that this event was inspired by something from his days as an Army Surgeon.

"Precisely," the Premier huffed, "It was Dr Watson's presence that has been demanded."

Holmes could practically hear the disbelieving outrage – as if the Premier couldn't understand why a crippled General Practitioner was more trustworthy that one of his hand picked sycophants. He could have given the insufferable idiot a very clear outline of why Watson was superior in every way to any flunky the man cared to name but chose not to force his friend into the position of being lauded to his face.

As it was Watson saved him the bother of it by chuckling lightly. The look on their guests face was a picture, and Mycroft's expression was priceless. Holmes wished that he could capture it for all time and resolved to sketch it the moment he could get to pencil and paper.

"I have not thought of Jamal for quite some time," Watson admitted, "I think you'd like him, Holmes, he is quite an extraordinary thinker. You are speaking of Jamal and his family, I believe."

"His full name…" one of the functionaries took offence, but Watson waved it aside with a casual gesture, his posture and tone so arresting that the man bowed to the authority he obviously weilded, even though only moments ago the whole party had dismissed Holmes' friend as less than worthy of their notice, despite his key role in the favour they were about to request of him.

"His full name is only to be used by strangers," Watson said calmly, and took a breath before standing carefully. Holmes controlled his urge to take his friend's elbow and instead walked around the edge of the room to fetch their coats. If Watson was truly intent on taking up this task then he was not stirring without Holmes at his side. They had no idea if the wounds that Watson had tended upon his own person were going to heal without complications, and the bloodloss he had suffered before getting the emergency dressing in place was not an insignificant issue either. Watson would not spare himself in the least given such an important commission, and for once Holmes was beginning to realise jut how frustrating it was to stand to one side and watch a dear friend stubbornly risk his health.

He resolved to be a _little_ less impatient the next time Watson attempted to persuade him to rest.

0o0o0o0

They took a cab there, leaving the politicians and Mycroft behind. Holmes had shot his brother a look that assured him they would be speaking about this at a later date, before turning his attention to getting Watson comfortably settled in the cab. There were a thousand questions burning at his lips, but he restrained them, knowing that Watson's slender strength should not be taxed.

"I can hear the thoughts and questions whirling in your head from here, Holmes," the lightly teasing tone tugged an unwilling smile from his lips, "Do ask them, dear chap."

"Precisely how did you come to know this Jamal?" Holmes asked the question that he knew would get the most information. Watson would take the query and run, spinning his tale into a whole cloth that would require very few prompting questions, bless the man.

"His tribe were encamped near us in Afghanistan," the simple answer came in a weary tone, "One day whilst I was walking near the oasis that we were sharing – it was a very large one, Holmes, more than capable of servicing two encampments – I saw a young child bitten by a snake. I shot the thing to stop it from repeating the bite, knowing that the sound would also attract the attention of my fellow soldiers and the tribe. I had my kit with me, as always, and so I immediately hurried to the boys side. By the time both my comrades and the nomads had found us I had been sucking the poison from the wound for some minutes. At my orders one of the corporals mixed the medicines I needed and after much effort and three weary days of vigil, I managed to save the boys life. It turned out that he was Jamal's eldest son, the only child of a much loved young wife and quite important to the tribe. My actions gained me entry to the tribes camp and I spent some time with them, learning more of their language and customs. Eventually the two camps broke formation and went their separate ways. Jamal vowed that he would never forget me."

There was a faint tone of disbelief to the tale, as if Holmes' dear friend could not quite understand why his actions had garnered such a response. He never could see his own worth clearly, consistently under estimating the esteem that those around him held him in. It was one of Watsons endearingly frustrating traits. It didn't help that Holmes had a very off-hand manner, treating his most intimate accquaintance in a very cavalier fashion.

"And now he and his tribe are in London, with important news for the Queen," Holmes summed up the fantastic codicil to that tale and received a wry smile in response, "I never get your limits old man."

"Fortunately for me, you enjoy mysteries," was the pawky response. Holmes chuckled in his soundless fashion and settled back against the cushions, subjecting Watson to a very careful going over. There was still pain present, no doubt exacerbated by the jostling of the cab, and the bloodloss was making itself known in the tired slump of his shoulders and faint tremor of the left hand.

"Your prognosis, _detective?_" the question carried a tone of derision, one which irked Holmes a little. He had attended enough anatomy classes to be aware of the pain and weakness his friend was now facing despite Watston's pretence.

"You need to rest," Holmes took the battle head on, "And you know it. I shall be watching you very closely, dear friend."

"As closely as I do when you are endangering your health?" Watson needled, "Then I shall return the compliment."

A more ominous threat Holmes had yet to hear – after all he knew precisely how much attention he paid to Watson's fussing when there was work at hand.

0o0o0o0

END

This was originally part of a longer fic that died an unlamented death. However the prologue you just read stands alone quite well so I thought I'd put it up and see how we feel about it.

Let me know what you think? (nicely please… heh heh)


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